


Devil In Blue Jeans

by MizJoely



Series: 221 Sherlollipops [213]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Demon!lock, F/M, Inappropriate Use of a Demon's Tail, PWP, Sherlolly - Freeform, Smut, Trust me on this one, crack!fic, no really it's damned cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8417905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: How hard can it be to seduce and corrupt one little human woman? Let's just say the answer to that question isn't quite as simple as Sherlock Holmerus might think.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Blame lilsherlockian1975 for encouraging me with this bit of Halloween nonsense - I know I am!

_Somebody’s knocking, should I let him in?_

_Lord it’s the devil, would you look at him!_

_I heard about him but I never dreamed_

_He’d have blue eyes and blue jeans…_

_(_ Somebody’s Knocking _by Terri Gibbs)_

She opened the door without even looking to see who it was - how foolishly trusting _was_ this mortal he’d been sent to corrupt? He summed her up (or so he thought) in the usual flick of an eye: petite, mousy, socially awkward, currently unattached romantically (a pity, that, it was so much more fun to seduce them away from a boyfriend/husband/lover), cat owner, medical professional - and, as already noted, too damned trusting. “Why did you just open the door?” he snapped at her with a glower, not sure why he was bothering - especially considering his reasons for being here. “I could have been anyone - a murderer, a rapist…”

“A door-to-door bible salesman?” she quipped when he drew in a breath to continue railing at her.

Sherlock Holmerus, demon and corruptor of countless (OK, at least fifty, he was relatively new at this and incredibly picky to boot) human souls, gaped at the mortal woman standing before him. Not just standing, but blinking innocently up at him with a small grin (a grin! at _him_ !) on her rather thin lips. _She really ought to wear lipstick to keep them from looking so small_ , he thought, then gave himself a mental slap. _Focus, Holmerus!_

“N-no,” he said, narrowing his gaze at her, tempted for once to use his mental abilities to scan her mind rather than simply relying on his finely-honed powers of observation as he usually did when sent to corrupt an innocent soul. ‘Innocent’ in the strictest terms; she certainly was no virgin, in spite of her chaste appearance (oversized rugby shirt worn over rumpled khakis and brightly patterned fuzzy socks). That much he knew, not so much by his powers of visual observation as by his sense of smell: actual virgins of either sex had a distinctive scent about them that she decidedly lacked. “So why…”

Unbelievably, she interrupted him - and worse, she knew exactly what he’d been about to ask! By Beelzebub, he’d never hear the end of this if word ever got out! “Because if you were a murderer or a rapist you’d have already shoved inside and started murdering or raping me,” she said brightly. “And if you were a door-to-door bible salesman you’d have started you pitch already. Which means you’re none of those things, unless you’re just not very good at any of it. Which is actually a good thing,” she rambled on, a small frown finally pinching the skin between her well-shaped ( _wait, what?_ ) eyebrows. “Because frankly if you were one of the first two, I’d rather you weren’t very good at it since then I’d be in a lot of trouble, and if you were the latter...well, I don’t actually need any bibles right now, thank you. I have two...no, three.” She nodded her head decidedly. “Yes, three. The one from my First Holy Communion, the one from my Dad when he passed, and the one from my Nana that…”

“Right, got it,” he interrupted her, shaking his head a bit to clear it. “So now that we’ve established what I’m _not_ , I suppose you’d like to know what I am?” He lowered his voice for the last words and turned on the smoulder, enjoying the sudden hitch in her breath and darkening of her lovely ( _lovely? Oh for the love of…!_ ) brown eyes as her pupils expanded.

“Um, a birthday present from my friend Meena? She, ah, threatened to send a kiss-o-gram,” she squeaked, backing up a step...but leaving the door open. Practically inviting him inside.

He grinned darkly and shook his head, feeling much more comfortable now that their roles were properly reversed. Nor did he miss the flash of disappointment in her eyes at his denial. “It’s not your birthday, and I could never be satisfied with a mere kiss,” he rumbled as he stepped into her flat, closing the door softly behind him and clicking the lock. “I’m here to offer you proof that God and the Devil exist.”

And just like that, using a line that had worked countless (yes, all right, fifty) times before somehow put him on the back foot. Again. She raised an eyebrow at him, deliberately looked him up and down...and smirked. “Because you’re the answer to all my prayers? Dressed like that?”

Inadvertently he looked down at himself before snapping his head back up to glower at her. “There’s nothing wrong with the way I’m dressed…”

“Not if you’re trying to seduce a teenaged girl,” Molly replied critically but not unkindly. “I mean, I get it, I’m not exactly dressed all that perfectly myself today - okay, ever - but with a line like that the least you could do was be wearing, I dunno, a really dramatic Belstaff and maybe a blue scarf and a bespoke suit! Not tight blue jeans and an even tighter t-shirt.” Although, with that last, her eyes _did_ linger a bit on his chest.

All right, then, time to pull out all the stops. “You mean, something like this?” he asked, throwing his arms out dramatically and transforming his clothing into exactly what she’d just described - with the extra details of a pair of expensive Italian loafers on his feet and an aubergine button-up that was so tight the buttons threatened to pop off with every breath.

Finally he got the kind of reaction he’d been aiming for: eyes wide, mouth dropped, body trembling. “H-how did you do that?” she gasped out, stumbling back a few steps and nearly tripping over the cat that was now winding its way around her ankles. She ignored it, much the way it was ignoring Sherlock, stupid feline; so much for cats’ supposedly superior senses when it came to the supernatural! Judging by the plaintive mews it was uttering it was more interested in dinner than in protecting its mistress.

He reached out and grasped her by the upper arms just as she started to fall over backwards, yanking her upright and holding her close. “I told you,” he murmured as he leaned down to sniff her hair (lemon and strawberry, nice). “I’m here to prove that God and the Devil both exist...and to show you which side has the most...fun.”

She turned her face up, mouth parted, and he wasted no time in kissing her. He put everything he had into the kiss, and was quickly rewarded by the feel of her lips moving beneath his, the tip of her tongue darting out to taste him. He groaned a bit and pulled her closed to his body, wrapping his arms around her and deepening the kiss.

Hell’s bells, he wanted her! In fact, he wanted her so much that he could feel his control over his human form slipping: suddenly his head was weighted by his horns, rising through the mass of dark curls on his head. His eyes were probably pits of pure black by now, with no whites showing at all, and he could feel the bulge of his tail against the back of his tight black trousers - not to mention the hard length of his cock in the front of those same tight black trousers. By Azmodeus, this wasn’t supposed to happen! _He_ was the one seducing _her_ , tempting her to willing sin and thus blackening her soul!

“Something wrong?” she murmured against his lips, pulling her head back slightly and giving him a quizzical look. Her eyes widened again as she took in his altered appearance, and she reached up with one tentative hand to touch the edge of one of his horns, where it curved over his ear. “Wow, OK, so you really are a, um, ah…”

“Demon,” he growled. “And I hope you’re ready for a night of mind blowing, life altering sex, little human.” He took her mouth in a brutal kiss, feeling her fingers digging into his scalp, and let out a guttural moan of pleasure as he hoisted her up and ground against her center. She wrapped her legs around his waist and groaned and gasped against his mouth, her tongue flicking against his and her teeth nipping at his lips.

He was impatient to feel her skin against his, tugging at her ridiculous shirt and breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head. He was even more impatient to feel the rest of her body without the barrier of clothing; with a small burst of power he vanished their clothing into nothingness, letting out a grunt of satisfaction as his cock brushed against the wet heat of her sex.

“Oh, that is SO useful,” she said with another groan as he started walking. “Bedroom?”

“Indeed,” he purred, carrying her toward the room in question. It was easy enough to find, considering the tiny size of her flat. However, once he’d laid her down on her bed and started to cover her body with his own, she surprised him again, this time by rolling to one side and scrambling to her feet. “Sorry! Just have to feed Toby, back in a tick, don’t move!” Then she was hurrying down her small hallway, bare feet pattering on the lino, as she headed for her kitchen.

Sherlock stared after her for a few seconds, utterly flummoxed; he’d never, _ever_ had a partner break things off at this stage for _any_ reason, let alone to take care of such a mundane domestic task. He thought about just leaving, finding a less troublesome human to corrupt, but something kept him obediently lying on the bed. What was it about Molly Hooper that held him so enthralled? Yes, he enjoyed sex as much as the next demon, but he’d never reacted so strongly to a partner before, especially not a human one.

While he dithered (another first for him, Sherlock Holmerus did not ‘dither’!) he used his sharp, demonic hearing to listen in on her (in case she was actually running away or phoning the police or a priest or something). He relaxed as he heard her opening a cabinet, opening a tin (presumably of cat food, although he wouldn’t put it past her to spoil the mangy beast with tinned tuna or chicken), and cooing to her pet as she placed the dish on the floor. A burst of water from the tap told him she was giving her hands a quick scrub, and then he heard her hurrying back to the bedroom. “Oh, good, you’re still here,” she said, sounding relieved as she closed the door behind her.

He raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Well, you did ask me to wait. Although I’m not entirely sure why I did; it’s not like you’ve got the only corruptible soul in London.”

She giggled and clambered on top of him. “Don’t get testy,” she chided him, reaching down and stroking his cock. She giggled again. “Or is that, don’t get _testes_?” She cupped his balls in illustration of her atrocious pun. “I can tell you’re still...interested. Or is that just how demons are, always ready to get a leg over?”

There was honest curiosity in her voice, and a small hitch that spoke of uncertainty about her own attractiveness. A foreign desire to reassure her came over him, and he almost apporated away in alarm; what the Seven Hells was wrong with him? Instead, he pulled her down for another kiss, not bothering to try to control his tail, which had fully manifested and was winding its way around her leg. Her breasts were soft and warm against his chest, her mouth just as soft and even warmer against his, and her bottom was delightfully round and squeezable.

The noises she made were even more delightful: soft sighs and squeals and groans as he coaxed her up and brought her breasts to his mouth. He briefly considered altering his physiognomy to give himself two mouths with which to suckle them, but settled for simply squishing them together and managing (rather nicely) with the one he currently had.

She was beginning to sweat, her skin flushed and rosy, fingers digging into his shoulders and head thrown back as he continued to work her plump nipples with his mouth. She shifted her hips and he felt her slick sex sliding against his cock, sending a small explosion of pleasure he felt in every pore of his (mostly) human body. Another first, and one he rather hoped to experience again and again and again, followed (naturally) by a rather larger explosion of pleasure for both of them.

“I, ahhh, don’t suppose you can conjure up a condom?”

Sherlock let her nipples escape from his lips with a wet ‘pop’, then raised an eyebrow as his tail slithered up her thigh and wrapped around her waist. “Seriously? A condom?”

She managed an embarrassed shrug. “Well, I’m really not interested in getting impregnated by the first good-looking demon to come along, you know. I have a career and a cat.” She mentioned both things as if they were equally important to her - and judging by the way she’d scurried off to feed the loathsome little beast while he was seducing her, they probably were.

“Don’t worry, I’m not interested in that either,” he reassured her (after preening a bit at the ‘good-looking demon’ comment), then mentally smacked himself. Reassuring her? Really, he was going to have to take a seriously hard look into his psyche later, find out what sort of sentimental urges had manifested inside his _memoriae regis_ and scrub them out of existence. He thought he’d gotten rid of them all after that incident with the Afghan war vet with the psychosomatic limp, but apparently not.

Molly seemed inclined to take him at his word, which was incredibly stupid of her; he was a demon, after all! For a split second he considered impregnating her anyway, just to teach her a lesson, but rejected it, unwilling to risk losing his chance to corrupt her soul over what would amount to a fit of pique on his part. Seduction was the name of the game tonight; fathering a child with her would have to wait for some future time.

_Wait...what?_

Before he could become further distracted by his increasingly wayward thoughts and emotions (he wasn’t even supposed to HAVE emotions, for hell’s sake!), Molly leaned down and kissed him. “Right, no condom,” she said huskily, wrapping her hand around the end of his tail and gripping it suggestively. “And no babies.” He nodded, almost hypnotized by the sight of her raising his tail up to her mouth...surely she wasn’t going to…

His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as, yes, she did indeed suck the tip of his tail into her mouth. And kept on sucking it in a very, _very_ suggestive manner that had his cock practically sitting up and begging for her attention.

At that point Sherlock gave up on even pretending he retained control of this situation, far more interested in seeing what other outlandishly sexy thing his supposed prey might come up with next. Frankly it was taking all his considerable willpower to keep from just lifting her up and settling her right on top of his throbbing cock.

Speaking of which, Molly pulled his tail from her mouth, gave him the sort of wicked grin he normally bestowed upon others, and slithered backwards until she was between his thighs. He held his breath and watched as she lowered her head and took him into her mouth.

He groaned, both tail and toes curling in raw lust at the sensation. He loved having his cock sucked, and Molly was not only good at it, but she was enthusiastic as well. So enthusiastic, in fact, that for the first time in his demonic existence (five hundred years, give or take a decade) he found himself on the verge of losing control. With a gasp he wrapped his tail around her waist again, pulling her body up and away from his.

She squealed in surprise, arms and legs flailing a bit at the unexpected vertical movement. Her pert breasts jiggled and swayed as he maneuvered her body so that her sex (mmm, nicely wet and smelling rather delicious) was just over his mouth. He flicked his forked tongue from between his lips, lapping at the damp curls, then lowered her deftly so that he could grasp her thighs as they came to rest on either side of his head.

Then he set to work, tasting, licking, nibbling, sucking...in short, using his mouth, his lips, and his (if he did say so himself) very talented tongue to bring her off. She squealed, she gasped, she moaned and writhed as much as she could while still being firmly gripped by both hands and tail, and finally she grabbed tight to his horns and gave a hoarse scream as she orgasmed.

He kept on suckling at her clit as she worked through her climax, waiting until she begged him to let her go before finally pulling his mouth away. Her entire body shuddered as he released his tail, and she collapsed on top of him, rolling to the side with her eyes tightly shut and mouth open to release a series of panting gasps. “That was...heavenly,” she finally said, opening her eyes and smiling at him with an awed expression on her face. “I’ll bet you get this all the time, but that was the most amazing orgasm I’ve ever experienced.”

He smirked at her. “Life altering?”

“Mind blowing,” she agreed, reaching up to brush a few errant curls from his forehead.

They simply lay together for a few minutes while she collected herself; then, with a very determined expression on her face, she knelt up, straddled his thighs, and began stroking his cock. “You’re a big boy,” she purred as she thumbed the tip, where pre-cum had begun to gather. “Can’t wait to feel you stretching me and filling me up.”

“No time like the present,” he suggested hoarsely, licking his lips in anticipation. She mimicked his action, but only after first bringing her wet finger to her mouth and smearing the pre-cum on her lips. Rising up a bit, she positioned herself, then sank down onto him incrementally. He itched to grab onto her thighs or hips, but his talons had manifested and he didn’t want to hurt her. That would come later, he told himself, but that was a lie and he knew it; he had absolutely no desire to hurt her, to push her to the limits of human depravity.

All he wanted to do was lose himself inside her, and not just for tonight.

Oh God, what was wrong with him?

He froze at that thought. He’d used the word, the forbidden word, without the usual explosion of pain in his mind. Something was definitely off, something was wrong, something was...tickling his nose?

He looked up, expecting to find Molly had leaned forward and that it was her hair, but no. She was sitting up, leaning back on his thighs as she rose and fell on his cock, her eyes screwed tightly shut. When she twisted her hips like that he was tempted to just enjoy the fabulous sex, but was distracted by something drifting down toward his face.

A feather. A snowy white feather. “Molly,” he said, suddenly very uneasy. “Where did that come from?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, pearly white teeth nipping at her lower lip as an expression of dismay came over her. “Um, the pillow? They’re down…”

“No they’re not, they’re synthetic,” Sherlock snapped, lifting his hands to her hips, stilling her rocking motion. He narrowed his eyes and looked at her - really _looked_ at her, opening his senses and reaching out with his mind. What he saw caused his eyes to widen in alarm, then shut tightly against the brilliant light that shone from her every pore. “Angel,” he managed to gasp out in shock.

Molly sighed and laid her hands on his chest. “Yes, angel,” she agreed, leaning down so that he could feel her hair brushing against his skin. “You’re not the only one sent to collect souls, you know.”

He cracked open one eye, reeling in his expanded senses so that all he could see was Molly Hooper and not the glory of her heavenly self. Well, Molly Hooper and her shining white wings, which clearly she’d decided not to un-manifest. “This is positively indecent,” he huffed as she wiggled about on his miraculously (oops, wrong word for sure!) still-hard cock. “What are you saying, are you trying to, to - what? Seduce me over to the light side by having sex with me?”

“Mind-blowing sex,” she reminded him sweetly as she planted a soft kiss on his lips. “ _Life-altering sex_ , isn’t that what you said?”

“Yes, but, isn’t this supposed to be one of the tricks used by our side?” He was honestly bewildered, but distracted by her continued gyrations atop him. His cock certainly approved, even if his mind was spinning.

“Mm, maybe in the past, but let’s just say that nowadays sex doesn’t alarm us - unless it’s rape or infidelity or manipulation, of course. We still frown on that sort of thing.”

He moved his hips tentatively as she kissed his throat. “And this isn’t, unghgh, manipulation?”

Molly sat back up and moved her hips in a swirling motion that was anything but tentative. “Nope,” she said, popping the p. “Not when it’s a demon I’m seducing. Fighting fire with fire and all that.”

“So, uhhh, what happens next? After this?” he asked, pulling her down so he could wrap his arms around her and not incidentally start nibbling at her throat. If he was in his right mind he’d manifest his fangs and tear that delicate white throat out, leave her bleeding and possibly dying, but even as he thought it he knew he’d never do it. And that actually _was_ a miracle.

“After this,” Molly panted, moving faster as he thrust his hips up to meet her downward strokes, “we get you a fully human i-identity, ungghgh, and, and then we just...see what happens next.”

“S-sounds good to me,” he managed to reply. “But I have to warn you; even if you get me on the side of the angels, I doubt very much that I’ll ever be one of them.”

“Fine with me,” she gasped out, then turned her head to kiss him, riding him hard, moaning as he sucked a dark purple mark into her throat. She tasted divine, not to put too fine a point on it, and as she came apart around him - as he felt his own orgasm building into an inescapable tidal wave of sensation - he found himself believing that she might actually succeed in her mission.

And he was surprisingly okay with that.


End file.
